“I can walk myself,” I said, a sting of rejection making me glare at him.
“And I can walk you up front.”
“If you walk me up now, looking like this, people are going to make guesses about what happened.”
“Yes, they are, and I’m thrilled that some of those guesses will be right,” he said, pulling open the door. “Little rebel girl likes to get off on motorcycles and get on her knees,” he said,coming up behind me and pushing me out of the office. “She likes to suck until her mouth is full of cum.”
“Rook,” I hissed. “Shut up before they hear you.”
“No, I want the world to know you hunted me down to be my pretty little slut.”
“I did not!” I yelled, and two of the guys glanced our way.
“For me, you are and will be.”
“What if I don’t want to be yours?” My teeth ground together as the ache between my thighs grew.
His hand wrapped into my hair, bending me over the bike next to us.
“Then I suggest not hunting me down to swallow my cock,” he said, his other hand sliding down my side. “It really gives mixed signals.”
“Rook, people can see us.”
“So? What are they going to do about it? They already know they can’t touch you.”
He pulled me back up, spinning me around to face him so he could kiss me.
“Why?” I asked, trying to catch my breath again.
“Because you’re mine. Off-limits to them. Off-limits to anyone until I’m done with you.”
“Until you’re done with me?” I rolled my eyes, but my stomach fluttered. “How romantic.”
“Isn’t it?”
“And if I want to be with someone else?”
He stepped back, his hand moving to my lower back as we headed out front. “He’s going to really hate you when I cut off every part of him that touches you.”
“You’re not serious.”
“A week ago, you were terrified of me for doing similar things. Now, you seem to think of it more as a joke.”
“I think my humor is a coping mechanism,” I said.
“So if I start laughing when I cut off body parts, does that count as therapy?”
“No, going to therapy counts as therapy. Cutting people up counts as murder.”
We made it to the car, and he opened the door for me.
“Could you imagine the depression I would give a therapist?” He leaned down, kissing me once. “Thanks for stalking me. I never realized how fun it could be to be on the receiving end. I’ll talk to you later.”
I got in and pulled out, looking back a few times as waves of heat washed over me. My mind raced with thoughts of him, each one only making me more interested in a world I never thought I wanted, but now couldn’t resist.
Eighteen
Regan